


The Aftermath

by KingHades



Category: Secret Window (2004)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Dissociative Identity Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingHades/pseuds/KingHades
Summary: Just something I've written seeing as I've been a little obsessed with the movie, Secret Window.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Aftermath

Mort Rainey.

His name is Mort Rainey. At the current time, he is thirty-one years old. His current residency is in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, as he was no longer welcome in the town where he bought basic necessities. Shooter made sure that his presence was not welcomed as everyone chose to glare at him. Some, through their body language and facial expressions, made it clear that they were uncomfortable.

His writer’s block may have disappeared but there was a cost to that.

Amy was dead.

Ted was dead.

The town he frequented hated him.

And Shooter, he was very much an important part of his life now, with no possibility to escape him. The character he created would never leave him simply because he wasn't a character. He was an alter of his.

A violent alter who had destroyed his life.

"Now hold on just a minute. I never destroyed your life. I merely had you rewrite the ending to my story," Shooter spoke up, his eyes narrowed as his attention focused on Mort.

Of course. He knew the thoughts going through his head.

"Leave me alone!" Mort exclaimed, resting his head in his hands, desperate for Shooter to leave him be. He was too exhausted to be dealing with him.

"Mr. Rainey, you and I both know that I can't do that. I am your creation, after all."

It was tempting to throw something in his direction but he knew any object would go through him. He was merely projecting John Shooter and throwing anything would prove that.

So, instead of giving into his temptation, Mort stood up and went to grab his favorite robe. Despite the holes and faded colors, it provided him comfort, maybe safety. Afterwards, he checked the lock on his door before making his way to the couch and practically throwing himself on it.

Just a bit of rest would do him some good.

"Now, Mr. Rainey—"

"Leave me alone," Mort interrupted, repeating the same words as before. He just wanted to get some rest without him being annoying.

Whether it had worked, he wasn't sure. He had turned his back to Shooter and closed his eyes tightly. Eventually, the ticking of the clock had lulled him to sleep, letting him forget the world and his alter for a moment.

Everything was peaceful.

He could only wish that things would remain that way.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any suggestions for what I should write next, my twitter is @beheadedroyalty.


End file.
